Canon Keepers V: Oreius Schmeius!
by JealousOfTheMoon
Summary: In which Susan experiences a 'verse change, and Oreius learns something the hard way. Oneshot. AntiSusanOreius. NOW DESCRIPTIFIED.


**Canon Keepers V: Oreius-schmeius! **

Susansan opens her eyes, blinking as she Susanrveys the woodlands around her. Could it be? Yes, it was! "Narnia! Oh, _dear_ Narnia!" she cries.

Knowing the land rather well—she is queen there, after all—she finds herself Susanrprised to only vaguely recognize the Susanrrounding woodlands. Then she is aware of something else: noise. Not the happy, merry-making type, but the grim, dull sort which one can only expect from a large camp preparing to do battle.

"…which means I'm here to do a job, not merely see Narnia. Bother." Susansan sighs. Sometimes she forgets that this is a job and not really an adventure. (The best part is when the lines between job and adventure blur. Unfortunately, mostly it just involves a 'Susane and a puff of pink smoke or a pile of pink goo.)

Being a faithful Canon Keeper, however, she rises and reluctantly moves toward the sounds. Presently she is in view of the camp.

"Blast! She exclaims. "Movieverse. So _that's_ why I didn't recognize the land around me at first. Dratted uncomfortable stuff, all this verse changing; not to mention the movie gets it _all wrong!_ Why must I defend the canon of something that's uncanonical? No, no—don't go confusing yourself, Susan. Focus on the task: why am I here?"

But at that moment she is interrupted by—

A Tall, Manly, and By-Some-Considered Hawt Centaur, who cries "My lady!" in one of the most grammatically incorrect constructions.

He gallops to her side. Susan stares like a dimwit.

'_Come on, Su—COME ON! You know his name! Think movieverse! Argh! MOVIEVERSE!' _She scrambles frantically about in her mind. Unfortunately her mental scrambling translates outwardly into a little hopping dance and much thwacking on the side of her head. She ceases when she realises the Centaur is gaping, and gives a sweet, gracious, stunning, gentle smile which is designed to create false appearances.

"Ah—" The Centaur recovers his jaw and continues, "m'lady, your brothers await you in the Royal Tent."

"Sir, why is our camp in the wrong place? I can't stand it this way!" Susan exclaims, trying to discern his character type.

"My lady, I would move the whole camp single-handedly if that were your wish!" The Centaur cries passionately. Oh. He's the In-Love-With-Susan type. Great.

"No…it's fine," Susan interjects hastily, when it looks like the Centaur is about to gallop off and begin disassembling the tents one stake at a time. "This stupid movieverse bothers me, that's all."

"M'lady, what is this 'movie' thing that troubles you? To relieve you I would move an entire mount—"

"It's Nothing!" Susan snaps, her ire fading into sheepish dismay. "–er, heh heh." She laughs nervously and gives the deceptively gentle smile again. Then, she shouts—"OREIUS!" (Said centaur jumps and lands awkwardly on all four feet.) "That's the name! This must mean my brain is adapting to the 'verse change!"

"M'lady, you still speak of this strange "verse" thing. It seemeth to trouble you. Might my assistance be of value?" Oreius says in what he supposes to be a soothing manner.

"In your drea—I mean, I thank you for the kind offer, Noble Oreius, but 'tis nothing. You say my brothers are waiting…?" _Please, let him take me to my brothers—someone of sense!_

"Of course. I will bear you swiftly on my back to the camp. Will you ride?" Oreius gestures to his back.

Susan is aghast. "I _couldn't!"_ She protests.

"But we have done so many times before," Oreius points out. "Why should this time be different?"

"Many times before!" Susan exclaims, enraged. " No different! HA! Uncanonical fiend," she mutters.

"Un-canna—wha—?" Oreius blusters, but Susan is already storming towards the camp. Oreius recovers himself enough to stride manfully (in a centaurish way) beside her.

_O, what a precious jewel the lovely Queen Susan is! _Oreius muses inwardly._ And so enraptured—meek and awed—by my handsome presence!_

Meanwhile, Susan thinks: _This guy is getting really annoying!_

Finally, (_finally!_ For Susan) Oreius stops and says, "Here we are, at the tent, m'lady!"

"Sanity at last!" Susan cries, and rushes inside.

But alas for Susan, "sanity" is not what greets her inside the tent, for neither Peter nor Edmund could be described as "sane." Edmund simply stands there giving a fool's grin and looking rather pointedly and openly from Susan to Oreius (over and over again). As for Peter…

Peter…oh, Peter. Well, the Magnificent-King-to-be says in a very loud, insinuating sort of voice—the sort one's mother uses when she's just found out that you've been _talking_ to a _boy _or a _boy_ has just _walked you home_—

"Oh! Su, you _and_ Oreius must come inside the tent." Oreius steps inside the tent, looking ridiculously pleased. "Well, I guess Edmund and I are off to peel a couple of grapes and polish the buckles on our boots! Never mind planning the details of the upcoming battle and other similarly traumatic events, not to mention rescuing ourselves and all of Narnia from perilous fate. We'll let you two have some—(snicker)—privacy!"

The way that last line runs, you'd think Peter was being sarcastic or funny. He wasn't (isn't). That entire thing was spoken with a straight face, despite the winks, nudges, and grins on the part of Edmund. If he was making a joke (Susan thinks), it was in very bad taste and not like her brother at all.

As soon as that phrase – "not like her brother" – flashes through her mind, something registers in Susan's mind. Susan whirls around, but her brothers have already left (still winking, nudging, tittering, and grinning).

In soon-to-be-Queen Susan's mind, the idea does not just register, it becomes a light bulb, and a light goes on. She turns back to Oreius—and finds him on his knees and in the midst of passionate declaration: "My lady! My light! My love!"

"My goodness!" Susan cries disgustedly.

"I knew we felt the same way," Oreius rushes on. "Light of mine, hear me out—hear my undying declarations of strong love!"

"I think you mean strong declarations of undying love," Susan corrects acidly.

Oreius is not to be perturbed. "She is wise as she is fair! Precious, wilt thou be mine? Thou wilt! Thou must!"

""Precious," "light," "love"…" Susan mocks. "How many more of those do you have?"

"Many terms of fond—nay, amorous—endearment come to mind when I think of you," Oreius assures her with a queasifying wink. "_Sweet, star, Sun, beauty, heart, Sugar, blossom, pumpkin—"_

"Pumpkin." Susan interjects. "Now _that's_ endearing."

"MY PUMPKIN!" Oreius cries immediately, moving to kiss her feet.

"Ugh!" Susan cries, horrified. "I was _being_ sarcastic!"

"Oh." This momentarily stops the Centaur, but he rises to the occasion. "And she is _witty_ as she is wise and beautiful!"

"Is your hair naturally curly?" Susan says in a flat tone.

"She shows such interest in me!" The Centaur fairly cries.

"—and "_she_" happens to be standing right next to you, which means you shouldn't talk about "her" in the third person, O Master of Chivalry," Susan says angrily.

"Witty, understanding, wise, lovely, _and_ discernin—" Oreius gushes.

"Enough!" Susan interrupts. "By the lion, you do know how to overdo it!"

Oblivious to the insult, he agrees! "O, I doth—infact, methinketh I—"

"Save your breath." Susan declares. "Now it is my turn to talk.

"By all means, my lady, and I will listen gladly—nay, I will compose a song for you, for at the sound of your musical voice my heart—"

"I don't give a fig what your heart does at the sound of my voice, so long as your brain comprehends what I'm saying." Susan says sharply and (understandably) rudely. "Oreius, I as a lawful Canon Keeper do charge you with violation of the Lewis Canon (Movieverse). This charge leads me to take drastic meaSures to prevent Such stupid and moronic material—that means _you_—from entering this realm. I will base these meaSures on the following: 1.) The mutation of a movie's character from a perfectly decent side-role to a stupid, witless, babbling, overly-sized-ego-ed romantic figure: namely, Supposing that someone as old as you would fall in love with a young girl, that I would actually ride a centaur, that you would allow the young kings to neglect their duties regarding the fate of Narnia in Such a manner, and that you would employ Such idiotic pseudo-old-English phraseology. 2.) Perverting two lead characters, namely Edmund and Peter, and forcing them into an inane position of general stupidity. If one looks at the characters in the movie, then _logically_ one should conclude that they are incapable of being the tittering, nudging, winking, ignorant buffoons you would have them be. 3.) Kneeling on your forelegs that way. That's just…disturbing. And probably very uncomfortable."

"My lady, if I hath offendedeth youeth, I apologizeth most profuselyeth!" Oreius appears to be slightly worried. Perhaps he half-comprehended half of that. "But whyeth dostethist…" His words become buried in the "eth"s and "-st" endings. He is, unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) no longer of the intelligible sort.

"Let me repeat myself," Susan shouts above his babbles of "eths" and "ists." "You are charged first and foremost with fraud and identity theft: impersonating a semi-canonical character and saturating that character with your OC-ness. Fortunately, I have a cure."

She pulls from somewhere a small gun-like contraption which is labeled: **DE-OC-FIER. **Then she proceeds to zap Oreius with said contraption.

**ZAP! **

Already balancing precariously on the "knees" of his front two legs, his whole body jerks violently and he lands on his face.

"It shocks hard, but works fast," Susan says coolly. "Oreius! Arise!" She snaps her fingers.

Oreius jumps to his feet (how, we'll never know). "My lady? Unngghh…" Suddenly taken by a violent headache, he buries his head in his hands.

"You were in the middle of professing your feelings of undying love for me. Pray continue."

A frozen silence in which Oreius' head shoots up and he stares for half a second. Then Susan blinks, and suddenly there is no Oreius (the renowned Speed of the Centaurs). Edmund and Peter enter from their position behind the tent flap.

"Su, where's Oreius gone to in such a hurry?" Edmund queries.

"If that was Oreius…. Well, it must've been, because he isn't here and we didn't see him—" Peter turns red, having confessed to eavesdropping. Susan smirks. "Er," he hastily amends, "All I saw was a blur. You spent so many minutes in here…together…alone…"

_Wink, wink, nudge, nudge,_ foppish grins all 'round on the parts of you-know-which-two.

"Oh, drat," Susan exclaims. "I've forgotten that these two were affected too."

"So," Edmund begins in an insinuating tone, "what went on in this—smirk—tent while we were away?"

"As your older brother, I demand to know all the particulars," Peter speaks in a manner over a subject that uncannily resembles a thirteen year old girl.

Su slowly draws her DE-OC-IFIER. "As an older brother, you wouldn't leave your sister along with a centaur who's at _least_ twice her age—not if you really thought what you thought was going to happen was going to happen!"

A pause.

"Huh?!" Edmund blathers.

Peter blinks confusedly. "But Su, Oreius—"

"Oreius-schmeius," Susan says briskly, and pushes the button.

_**ZAP!**_

"Well done, my child," Aslan says, appearing in the doorway. "Your work here is done."

"Mayn't I stay?" Susan asks.

"Not in the movieverse, dear one. Hmm." He surveys the prone figures of Edmund and Peter on the tent floor. "Humans aren't as resilient as centaurs, are they?"

"They'll have awful headaches when they wake up from that," Susan says. "I almost feel sorry, but they deserve it, don't they?"

"Yes, they do…" Aslan muses. "Logically, at least."

**THE END. **


End file.
